Dead Girl Walking
by Dannemund
Summary: A little fun with Vault 101 and Butch. M for mature, of course.


Note: This is for a Fallout kinkmeme fill, figured I'd give it a try, I need the practice. 101 smut. The original fill was inspired by The Heather's Dead Girl Walking (song). ...So enjoy, I guess.

* * *

 _So this was it, huh?_

It wasn't the pain that frightened Louisa. She had an entirely accurate idea of how much this was gonna hurt. One did not get shoved into a laundry cannon _without_ being in pain. It didn't even bother her that the threat was so ridiculous because by the time she would even fit into a laundry cannon, she would _have_ to have been mashed into a pulp.

No, what bothered her wasn't the pain but the intent behind the threat. Never in her life had she been delivered a threat of such intensity. And the look on―well. It didn't matter _who_ was doing the threatening. It only mattered that the threat had been made.

Louisa sat in the cafeteria for the first two hours, crying into Amata's shoulder, before schlepping her dead ass all the way home. Dad wasn't there; of course, why would he be? She wasn't even angry about that. She needed to be alone, she needed to be away from other people, she―she―she needed to do something special, _anything_ special, before she died.

She needed to do something that she always wanted to do, before she was beaten and left in a quivering lump on the laundry room floor. But what did she want to do?

It was a serious situation. She had until tomorrow morning, barely twelve hours away. She couldn't expect Ellen DeLoria to intervene. The woman was too soaked through to even form coherent sentences, some days. Louisa expected her position as Laundry Supervisor was a gift from the Overseer, to keep her from causing too much trouble.

At any rate, Mrs. DeLoria was not going to step in a save her from her aggressor. Louisa sprawled out on her bed and sobbed to herself. It wasn't fair! She hadn't even started the fight―and she was too young to _die!_

A stray thought crossed her mind while she was laying on the bed. She was going to die an unkissed virgin. Even _Amata_ had had her first kiss already. Amata had joked that Louisa was going to wake up one day and find out she'd been assigned a husband, since she was such a wilting flower when it came to boys. ...Which _was_ true...

Amata had also said that it was pretty obvious that the boys were intimidated by her. She didn't see that being true, but if it was... Well, it would explain why that jerkwad Butch was always making her life a living hell.

 _Butch._

Holy crap, that was a whole layer of hurt she hadn't even thought about. The Vault bad boy, the Tunnel Snakes' ringleader, Ellen DeLoria's worthless son. It didn't matter what you called him. To Louisa he was just Butch and she'd be lying if she said having him sit behind her in class every day wasn't torture.

She knew there was... _something_ there. He didn't pick on other girls like he did her. When he was messing with Amata or Suzie or Christine he always had his crew, his backup. Louisa... he always tripped her up in one-on-one scenarios. No one else would be around. Just her and that adorable bad boy, staring at her with those _amazing_ eyes...

It had been going on like that for so long, she didn't even think about it being weird anymore. _Except..._ the pitter-patter of her heart when he came around a corner and shoved her into a wall wasn't just fright. She would always end up standing there, clutching the wall like she was about to fall off the edge of the world simply because Butch had just _touched_ her.

Oh, it was infuriating! She'd never get to do anything about _that,_ if she was gonna―

Louisa sat up in her bed and stared around the room. This was probably her last night on earth. She had to do something special. ...She was thinking about Butch?

 _He_ was something special to do.

But she didn't dare. ...Did she?

* * *

Louisa sat in the clinic, moping about in a less-than-admirable manner. She was hoping her dad would be around, to give her a sick day out of laundry duty―but it hadn't worked. Jonas shot her a few irritated looks and subtly hinted that maybe she might find more entertainment in reading a book or tracking down Amata. Louisa just groaned to herself and imagined how dizzying it would be to be poured into a drum and laundered.

So she figured, why the hell not think of a plan. For that _something special._ She could at least think about it... _right?_ Didn't mean she would actually dare to pull it off.

Butch wouldn't be home for a few hours, she knew. He was the Vault barber, now―never a hairdresser, she wouldn't dare pick on him for that. If business was slow he'd be stuck in his shop, bored as hell, until the working day was over. It was a shame that his business hours didn't overlap the laundry worker's hours, but everyone needed a haircut.

Oh, _God,_ she remembered the last haircut she'd gotten from him. Those fingers on her scalp, his breath down her neck, the torturous closeness between them broken only by the chair she was sitting in... _Ah!_ She was going to go crazy and she hadn't even planned anything! Louisa felt her face redden and had to escape the clinic. She dashed to the bathroom and laid her head on the cool wall, staring at herself in the mirror across the room.

She could do it... No, she was _going_ to do this, come hell or high water. Butch would like it, he wasn't _ignorant..._ Just a jerk. Well, she was going to borrow some of that hutzpah and make her last night on earth the best one ever. _The best._

Because it wasn't fair, and she deserved some happiness before she died, right?

* * *

She'd pushed away all the fear and she was waiting. In the corner of the hall, under the broken light that Stanley had not had time to fix. Butch was out of work by now, surely―it was well after ten in the evening, and unless he had stopped to drink with someone, he should be moseying through the corridor any moment now.

She heard him stomping up the hall after a few more minutes. That trademark Butch walk, arms shoved down into his pockets, legs all over the place, spine tilted back and head down.

...Never mind that he'd been told repeatedly it was going to give him back problems in the future. It was just another thing that Louisa loved him for.

She was not good at picking locks―she hadn't really ever had the time to practice, between all the studying her father expected her to do and her "social obligation" to Amata. Today, she had actually broken the lock on the girl's bathroom door, attempting to figure it out one last time. After fleeing the scene with a face as red as an alarm light, she had come up with a secondary plan.

She watched Butch amble to the door of the quarters he shared with his mother, and pull out his keys. The timing was the problem, she thought. She had to get it just right or he'd lock her out of the apartment.

Butch mumbled something under his breath and her heart pounded. So close...

"Oh fer fuck's sake," Butch muttered. He'd dropped his keys.

Maybe he was already drunk? That wasn't going to be as fun. Louisa gritted her teeth and damned the whole of the DeLoria family for being raging alcoholics.

The door slowly opened, on its own. Butch looked up in surprise and Louisa actually swore out loud, then covered her mouth and flattened herself into the wall. She could have just walked in there! _Shit!_

"Ma, you can't leave the damn door open!" Butch yelled.

 _Now, now is the time―_

She strode out of the corner and down the hall to the door. Butch was standing in front of the door frame, looking down on his mother's prone figure. Ellen had passed out on the couch. Louisa stepped into the room and hit the button that closed the door, moving up behind Butch.

He turned in surprise and she shoved him as hard as she could, down to the floor. He landed on his ass in a tangle of arms and legs, bouncing a little. Louisa grinned. That was just revenge, for all the times he'd done it to _her._

"What the fuck?" he said, confused. "Nosebleed―what―"

"Get up, Butch," she ordered. "Get up off the floor."

He blinked a few times and―she gave him credit, he was fast―stood in a second, fists up and face scowling. "The hell you want?" he growled.

"Let's go to your room, Butch," she said, turning on the authoritative voice her father always used on his patients. She'd only seen it fail a few times. "Have a... _talk."_

Butch just stared at her. "Fine," she muttered. "We'll play hardball." She grabbed at the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulled it down, and flashed him.

While he was distracted she advanced on him and backed him into the room, shutting the door behind her. His eyes didn't leave her chest until she locked it with an audible snap.

"What the _hell_ are you doing―"

"Shut _up,_ Butch. You talk too much." Louisa pushed him down onto his bed―he wasn't fighting her off? confusing, but it did make the plan a little easier―and straddled him, her ass digging into his crotch.

Thank God for Dad's medical textbooks and what little Sex Ed the Vault offered. She laughed a little at the thought. So what if she'd never before―she was going to now. _Right_ now.

"Seriously, nosebleed, what the fuck is going on?"

Louisa raised an eyebrow and looked down at him. "Butch, I pegged you as smarter than _that,"_ she said, in a disappointed voice.

"Hey!" He reached up and tried to grab her wrists, but she was prepared for that. She ground her hips into his and felt the resulting excitement from him. Yup, boys were boys. All according to plan.

"What's happening is that you are going to screw my brains out," she said, "and you are going to like it, because you don't have much choice."

 _"What―"_

"Shut the hell up!" she growled. "Dammit, can't you stop looking a gift horse in the mouth?"

Butch stared up at her, his face set in that expression he wore so frequently around the Tunnel Snakes. Disinterested, a little pissed, maybe some revulsion. God, that was _hot._ She leaned down onto his chest and ran a finger across his lips. "Tonight is something _special,"_ she said, in a low voice.

"Yeah, alright, _whatever,"_ he muttered, and looked away from her. His face was turning red. Awesome! She grinned at him and pushed herself up, unbuttoning his jacket.

"Take it off," she said, and he grumbled as he pulled the stiff leather away from his arms, leaving him in his Vault jumpsuit. Louisa pulled the zipper down slowly, watching his face the whole time. He still looked a little uncertain.

"You sure―"

"I said, shut up!" She rolled her eyes and pulled her arms out of her own jumpsuit, letting her breasts bounce out of the material. She didn't want to get up off him yet; the heat he was giving off was too damn good against her crotch. "C'mon," she said, pointing at his jumpsuit.

"I can't get out of this monkey suit with you on top of me," he muttered, staring at her breasts.

She ground her hips into him, feeling a shiver run up her spine. God! That felt really good―it was only going to get better―she smiled, meanly. "Okay," she said. She lifted a leg to remove herself and Butch grabbed her hips, stopping her.

"At least tell me why," he said, his fingers digging into her. Damn, that felt even better! She shuddered out a breath. _Get a hold on yourself Louisa!_

"No talking," she said, firmly. "Take off the jumpsuit." She took the opportunity to throw off her own while he pulled his arms out, watching him from the side of his bed. Everything she had imagined―he was strong, yes, she could see the muscles under his skin moving as he removed his suit, saw the blush of pink around his nipples, the little fuzz that ran down his stomach to his pubic area. He was _gorgeous_ ―she felt the tingles running up and down her legs, and put her finger in her mouth, biting her knuckle. The anticipation was going to kill her, if he didn't hurry the _hell up!_

Butch tried to get up from the bed but Louisa was back on top of him, underwear being the only thing separating their privates. She ran her hands down his chest, felt the soft hair, her fingertips on fire from the touch. He touched her arms, staring at her, that same stupid Tunnel Snake look on his face. He could keep that look up the whole time, she wouldn't argue. It was _perfect._

"Now," she said, "I want you to tell me how _much_ you want this."

"Whatever, nosebleed," he rolled his eyes.

Louisa frowned. Well, she was in charge, she had to make him understand―"Butch," she said, soothingly, and put her face down into his, "I want you to _want_ to love me." She kissed him on the mouth, slipping her tongue into his mouth. That was something Amata enjoyed talking about. Louisa was pretty sure she'd gotten it right because Butch groaned and moved his hands back to her hips, and pushed his crotch into her.

"None of that," she said, pulling away. "Don't you know to treat a lady?" She tsked him with a finger.

"Ladies don't jump on men and _half-rape_ them," he sneered.

"Pshh," she said. "Alright, fine, I'll make it easier for you. Listen to what I tell you to do."

"Whatever," he said, and she could feel him rubbing himself into her crotch. Well... she didn't like him for his talking, anyway. If he was gonna play like that, she'd have to tell him what to do and what to say. First, though... she wanted to mess with him a little. He deserved it for being so _mean_ to her for so long.

"I guess you don't want to have sex tonight," she announced, and went to get off of him. Butch protested. "Fine, whatever! I want to fuck you, nosebleed. Get back here." He grabbed at her again, and his hand ran over her breast. Louisa shivered, hearing the words. Butch squeezed experimentally, which wasn't as good as the light touch. She told him that.

He had an intense look on his face as he ran his thumbs over her nipples, and she felt her back arching at his touch. "Make me feel _good,_ Butch," she moaned.

"You're crazy," he muttered. "Don't know why you'd want this."

The sharp feelings were almost too much, she felt herself moving against him in response. That wasn't good, she didn't want to get off just dry humping him or something... did she? Annoyed, she swatted away his hand. "C'mon," she complained.

"Just sayin'," he said, and ran his hands up to her head, pulling her down to his face. His mouth on hers, ah, he was a much better kisser than she was. She tried to keep up but couldn't. Her chest was flush against his and her nipples felt amazing, rubbing into that soft hair.

"Ah! _Butch!"_ she moaned into his mouth. "What―"

He moved his hand down her back and into her underwear, grabbing at her ass. She jerked upright at the pinch he gave her, slamming herself down onto his crotch and bringing an agonized groan from him. "Damn, nosebleed, lay _off!"_

Louisa snorted. "Bad boy Butchie can't take a little heat?" she teased.

"If you want me to―" he grimaced as she rubbed into him again. "Stop, jeez! If you want _that_ you gotta be gentler, stupid!"

She growled a little. "I'm _not_ stupid!"

He laughed at her. The sound made her angry, and she scowled at him. "You've never," he grinned. "I bet you've never even _seen_ one."

"Screw you, Butch!" she yelled. "I have, _too!"_

He pulled her back and kissed her again, long and hard. "I _bet,"_ he mumbled around her lips, and she felt the heat flood through her. He could say whatever he wanted, oh God. It was―

"No," she said, when he started pulling off her underwear. "Not yet. Got to do―this right." She ran her hands down his chest again and sat backward, sighing.

"I don't know what you think is right," he muttered. "Fuck, nosebleed, just fuck me already. Don't you got a curfew or _something?"_

She sighed. "I do have work, tomorrow."

"Then let's _go."_ His hands were on her hips again, he was moving himself under her.

The pleasure built up around her so quickly she couldn't control it. "Oh, God!" she shrieked, and Butch let her go in surprise, stilling himself.

"What's the matter," he teased, touching her breasts again. "Can't take a little heat?"

Louisa didn't care―she was going to explode if he kept that up. "Thought―you wanted _―this,"_ she breathed out. She was moving herself, now, against his erection.

"Let's try something else," he said, huskily. She trembled at the urgency in his voice. "Get off of me."

They switched positions. Butch laid himself on top of her, running his hands up and down her sides. His mouth was on a nipple and she jerked upright at the sensation, bumping him back a little. It was amazing, they way his tongue danced around. She would never, _ever,_ tell him what to say, that tongue was golden!

"Listen," he said, stopping for a moment. "You―You do want this?"

"Oh, for the love of _God,_ Butch," she groaned, squeezing his head against her chest.

He pulled her underwear up, then, tossing them to the side, and his hands ran up and down her thighs. She gasped, closing her eyes. "Touch me," she moaned. "Oh, God, Butch, _touch_ me!"

He snickered a little, running his fingers along her mound, and she nearly shrieked again when he pushed a finger along her folds. "Yeah," he whispered, and she did cry out when he inserted his finger into her, moving back and forth, and lowered his head.

Louisa's eyes popped open, her back arching upward. She didn't―oh, _God,_ could you even do _that―_

Butch ran his tongue along her folds, and pressed it into her clit, firmly rubbing her in a circle. She started to shiver from the waves of pleasure spreading through her―what― _Ah!_ He'd put another finger inside her and was moving faster.

She couldn't hold it back any longer. She shrieked out in ecstasy as she orgasmed against his tongue and hand. Butch was grinning, she could feel his cheeks against her thighs as she slammed them together into his head, pushing herself upward and into his face. She rode the feeling for a minute―maybe two―couldn't tell―

"Now what," he teased her. "Since you're so determined to _do_ me."

 _"Ohmigod,"_ she breathed out. "I―I―"

He put his hands beside her head and leaned over her. "You're alright, nosebleed," he grinned. "How about some _real_ fun?"

 _"Shut up,"_ she moaned.

"Hey, _you_ started it," he said, and lowered his hips onto hers. She could feel him against her thigh―what the―

Louisa looked down and he was naked, now, pressing himself onto her. She shuddered, feeling the bulge trapped between them. "Butch..."

"You ready? Round two, _c'mon,_ stupid."

"I'm _not_ stu-"

He pushed into her, and she gasped out. Her arms flew around his head, squishing him into her, as he moved. She moaned, loud and long, her eyes fixed on a light above the bed. Oh, God, what the hell was she waiting for. _We should have been doing this ages ago!_

"Ow! Shit, let go of my head," he was saying.

"Don't move," she whispered. Butch stopped himself inside her. "Go slow," she mumbled. "For the love of God, Butch, I'm a _virgin―"_

"Not anymore," he said, rudely. He started to move again. "Goddamn, nosebleed," he muttered. "Feels like you're gonna― _Unnnhh―"_

Louisa lifted her legs and pulled him into her, pressing herself up into him as he moved, slowly at first. He picked up speed, making grunting noises. It felt amazing, she was so glad she'd decided to do this!

He moved his legs up and grabbed her hips, pulling himself out of her arms and sitting upright. "This one's my favorite," he sneered, and began to buck into her, fast and hard, her hips at his thighs. Louisa covered her face as the warmth in her stomach increased again, moaning out his name and every curse word she could think of. The amazing feeling spread out through her, quickly.

"Shit, stop being so fucking _loud,"_ he told her, his hair coming down into his face. That pouf above his head was undone, messily spread around. God, she wanted to touch his hair―but he was too far away now, moving in and out of her in a dizzying amount of movement.

She was going to explode, just pop like a damn balloon―she moaned loudly, grabbing the sides of the bed. He was going to push her right off the bed―

Butch grunted again, shuddering against her. "Gonna blow," he mumbled. "Get ready for it."

"What―"

He pulled out of her and groaned, dropping one hip, grabbing himself. Louisa wasn't sure what he was doing, watched in curiosity. The electric feeling that was coursing through her hadn't stopped, but...

"Oh, _shit,"_ he muttered, and jerked inward, his hand on his dick, and he shot semen at her.

Oh. Well, that was understandable _...I suppose,_ she thought. Butch didn't want to come inside her. It felt weird, him squirting out onto her stomach. Louisa didn't know what to make of it.

 _"Unh!"_ he said, letting her go and collapsing onto the bed beside her. "Shit."

"Butch―"

"Quiet," he said, his hands on his eyes. "Damn, nosebleed."

"Stop calling me that!" she huffed, pushing herself up and pinching his nipple.

He jerked and swatted at her. "Jeez, I gotta take a _breather,_ shit. Leave me alone."

"We're going to be here all damn night, Butch," she said, running her hand along his thigh. He looked so spent, his dick nestled into his pubic hair like a little sleeping animal. She grinned and laughed a little at herself. That was so stupid.

"I ain't a fucking superhero," he said, tiredly.

"You will be, when _I'm_ done with you," she said, and lowered her mouth onto him, tasting herself on his member. It was only fair, right?

"Goddamn, Louisa!"

She grinned again, her lips moving around him. Yeah, the best night of her life―

 _The best._


End file.
